September 9, 2012
By nchic GOLD, Charlottesville, Virginia
nchic GOLD, Charlottesville, Virginia
14 articles 0 photos 13 comments

Favorite Quote:
it had borne the burden; it had earned the honor
-joan of arc

life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about learning to dance in the rain.

She came in quietly, a whisper of sun flavored air and then it was gone, with just her voice summoning me before the council. “Come, Signora, you are needed.” She murmured. I lay my work down, it had grown into a long, thin, yellowing scroll, scrawled all over in my spidery handwriting. It told of my rabid curiosity, my unmentionable crime and therefore my horrendous guilt. I have been forgiven now, I am worshipped on earth and the Gods look to me for guidance, seeing as how I have experienced the mortal life firsthand. It had been a long time coming, but I was almost done, the tale was almost complete. I wondered how long this meeting would take. The last one had been about 20 years, if my mortal watch was correct. And it probably was, almost everything Hephaestus crafted was impeccable… except for one… but that is all in my long tale, no need to think about it now.
“Signora.” Helena whispered, reminding me of the task at hand. I sighed, slowly lifted my old creaky bones out of the delicate chair, my peach silk dress rustling. I braided my long white hair around my head, straightened my shimmering dress, and glided across the long cedar hallways with an elegance that could only be learnt hundreds of years ago. Helena followed quietly, her head bowed, praying for the sinful humans on earth, I suppose.
We came to the meeting room, and opposed to the grand polished hallways, it looked shabby, cluttered, and cobwebbed. There was such a collection of knick knacks there I could hardly make it to my seat in the corner of the diamond shaped room. There were pocket watches and ribbons, gold spoons, and wine glasses, black veils and dried roses scattered all over. Ripped out pages of Shakespeare on my chair, engagement rings hung on the chandelier, rusty nails strewn over the creaky floorboards. There were rabbits feet and star fruit shoved into the huge grandfather clock, checkers and poker chips piled up sky high on the window sills. I rolled my weary powder blue eyes… what the gods could do and get away with. They partied far too much, it just wasn’t respectable. Then again, who could respect a guy like Aries? Sure, he was breathtakingly handsome, and I knew of no one who could resist those steel blue eyes, but he was like a small child, his selfishness was amazingly uncontrollable, and for the god of war he was incredibly weak. Not physically of course, but my god of course I didn’t respect him. Then there were those such as Athena and Apollo, Hestia, Hephaestus and Demeter. These were the real gods, not power crazed like Zeus and Hades, but calm, collected, beautiful, selfless, and warm. Artemis was almost there, but she lacked the warmness. She was so cold and steely. Powerful, yes, calm and collected, also yes. Certainly not power crazed, and most certainly beautiful, However, she lacked that warmness, the sweet maternal quality… I likened her to an angsty teenage girl in my mind. Too bad she’ll never grow up. Immortality, the golden word…
While I was musing, the council room had slowly filled, the hung-over Dionysus stumbling to his chair, Athena with her helmet tucked under her arm like a football, Hestia with her matches, Aphrodite checking her makeup, Hera writing letters to her children, Artemis scowling at her crossed arms, Poseidon lugging his trident in, Aries writing out bad war plans, Demeter consulting her Farmers Almanac, My sweet and scary father Hephaestus slowly picking up the nails and piling them up for future use, Hermes collecting Hera’s letters, Persephone with her basket of flowers, and Apollo as radiant as the sun. The only gods missing were Hades, of course, but he wasn’t welcome, and Zeus. Where was the irresponsible and all-powerful Zeus? After all, he was the one who had summoned us.
After a long wait and a feast of figs and grapes and nectar, Zeus walked gravely in and took his seat at the head of the table. “We have a problem on our hands here at Olympus.” He uttered these awful words in his deep gravelly thundering voice. “This is a problem a long time coming. I have known this would happen from the creation of the first man and woman” Here he glanced at me. “So you think we would be prepared for it. However, we are not.” Of course not, I thought sarcastically. “My brothers, my sisters, my wife, my children, my friends, the lesser gods are starting to rebel against us.” Everyone gasped. I gasped. This had never happened before, the lesser gods had always been in awe of the more important gods. “They are demanding thrones on Olympus. They say we are irresponsible with our power therefore, they will either fight us, or join us. It is our choice.” The room immediately erupted into heated arguments and shouting matches.
I closed my eyes and thought of the lesser gods, the ones who were the threat here, the enemy. Shy Aristaeus, god of olive-growing, quirky Skythes, god of the pinky finger, fashionable Aglaea, goddess of adornment, peaceful Pasithea, goddess of rest and relaxation, all the muses of ppoetry and music, history and art, beautiful, quiet Dysis, goddess of the sunset, and fun Arktos, god of constellations and the night sky. I know all these wonderful gods and goddesses, I know what they do is amazing, if small. The powerful gods of Olympus do not know of the wonders these small gods encompass, they do not see them as I do, as equals. The gods of Olympus will want to wage war on them, to fight the minor gods. However, I know this is not the way, I also know there is a reason Zeus brought me here, and that he is not as shallow and stupid as I originally thought.
I must make them see reason, I must give the lesser gods a chance. Because I know that if this comes to war Mount Olympus will be destroyed, some of the larger gods destroyed, but in the end, all of the minor gods will be destroyed. They will lose. However, in the process, we will lose as well. We will lose rainbows and stars, olives and ppoetry, music and clothes, flowers and the sunset. The world will be empty of all the things that make it beautiful. And so I will have to convince the all-powerful gods of Olympus to listen to me. Little me, Pandora who opened the box and let out all the evils of the world, and kept hope imprisoned. I was a slave to my curiosity. I have to convince them to not wage war, or else all will be lost.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book

Parkland Speaks

Smith Summer